Gratitude
by inelegancy
Summary: Maybe Leah deserved a shot at happiness. Maybe Angela's struggle was about more than just being tall. And after all, what's the point of being part of an epic love story if you don't get a little romance in your life? Rated M for language, substance use, and upsetting situations. Chapter Two: Leah's relationship with Sam went downhill after he started hiding things.
1. Don't Mention It

**A/N: I've been threatening to write about these girls for six months now, so here's the first chapter in what will hopefully be a full-fledged novella. Content note for alcohol, creepy guys, and the use of stereotypes (like "angry brown girl") that I hope I'll be able to deconstruct in a positive way over the course of this fic.**

Everybody knows the Quileutes party harder than anyone else in the greater Forks area. There's not much else to do on the rez (as opposed to the rest of the town, which is chock full of nightlife. Not.), so we've had to improvise. One of the boys made passable fakes and we took turns driving to Forks to hit up the unsuspecting Thriftway. There are booze caches all over the beaches, and we hit them hard on a regular basis. Does that make us a regrettable stereotype? Probably, but they'd say shitty things about us no matter what we did.

All of which is a long and complicated way of saying that I was absolutely sloshed that night. The world was tilting as I hung onto Sam's arm, trying desperately to keep myself upright. He was laughing uproariously at something that Jared said. I missed it but I was laughing too, and the world was spinning around me. Embry passed a half-empty bottle of the cheapest flavored vodka that existed to me and I took a swig, and then another, making a face at the flowery lukewarm taste. I regretted my decision immediately and shoved the bottle away from me, back into the circle, where one of the Forks boys grabbed it.

Suddenly I was heaving, propelling myself away from Sam toward the nearest quiet dark place where I could throw up in peace. He didn't follow me—of course not, who wants to watch someone hurl?

I fell to my hands and knees between the dunes, feeling like I was about to die. Suddenly someone was with me, gently pulling my hair out of the way as I retched into the sand.

After emptying everything out of my stomach, I rolled to one side and groaned. My nameless helper picked up her water-bottle, poured part of it onto her flannel shirt, then handed the bottle to me. I gratefully took it and rinsed out my mouth, then pressed the cool bottle against the side of my face. She handed me the shirt next, and I wiped my face and then slung it over the back of my neck.

"Thanks," I said, my voice rough.

"Don't mention it," she said.

I closed my eyes for a second and opened them to Sam scooping me into his arms. "It's time to go home, Leah," he said. I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes again as he lifted me, feeling weirdly positive about the night.

* * *

The September night was chilly for all that the afternoon had been so warm, and I held my hands out to the fire as I sat on a driftwood log. Across the fire were a handful of Quileutes chattering animatedly to Jessica and Mike about something. Some Port Angeles boys were swapping tall tales with Rob and Tyler, and I wasn't sure where Samantha had disappeared to. I didn't mind being by myself—I almost preferred it.

"Hey, cutie."

I groaned internally and looked up to see one of the Port Angeles boys. I smiled, more out of rote politeness than anything else.

"Is this seat taken?"

"Yeah, actually, my friend—"

"I'll give it back," he smiled, settling himself on the log next to me. I sighed and looked back to the fire, hoping he wouldn't be too intrusive.

"So, uh, you live around here?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You?" I already knew the answer.

"Nah, I'm from a _city_ ," he smirked.

"Seattle?" I asked, feigning surprise. His face fell ever so slightly.

"No, Port Angeles."

"Oh, that's nice." It wasn't, particularly, but I wasn't good at not being polite.

"What do you guys do for fun around here?" he asked.

"I like to volunteer with local wildlife rehab clinics," I said, hoping it would sound boring enough for him to disengage.

"Aww, that's really sweet," he said, and I realized we were in for the long haul. "I have a dog."

"What's its name?" I asked, interested in spite of the non sequitur.

"Rex," he replied. "He's a Rottweiler."

"Nice," I said. Dogs were a safe conversation topic.

"I've always heard that beach sex is fun," he said, sliding an arm around my shoulders.

"What?!" I'd always known the conversation was going to end up here, but I hadn't expected it to get here quite so fast.

"Maybe you and I should find out?" he suggested, not at all put off by the shock in my tone.

"I, uh, no, please," I stammered, pushing away from him.

"Oh, c'mon," he said, his arm suddenly like a vice. "We'd have fun."

"I don't want to," I said, trying to disengage myself.

"What, are you a _lesbian_?" he demanded with a sneer, his voice rising.

"Please don't yell," I begged, now trying to placate him instead of pull away. He opened his mouth to say something (and judging by the look on his face, it wasn't going to be nice) but suddenly someone was leaning over him, gripping his shirt front with two fists and dragging him upright.

"She said no," the Quileute girl stated flatly. "That means fuck off."

"What the fuck, Pocahontas?" he snarled, shoving her in the shoulders. "Nobody asked you."

She grinned and pushed him right back. "Nah, but fuck you. Oh wait, nobody wants to."

His eyes got angry and he threw a punch right at her stomach, which she blocked neatly before flinging herself at him, knocking them both to the ground. She was clearly the better fighter, avoiding all his attacks and leveraging her position on top to hit him again and again. After a moment that felt like forever, she finally stood up, meeting the shocked gazes of the combined group with defiance.

I could almost feel sympathy for the boy, who was picking himself up from the ground, looking dazed and battered, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, facing down the rest of the Port Angeles boys with a smile that said " _I fucking dare you."_

"Um, that was, wow," Jessica said. "Trent, get out of here. Nobody even invited you. Jason, I swear to god that if you ever bring him down again I'll call your mom and get her to ground you."

The Port Angeles boys slunk away with their tails between their legs and I hid a smile. Jessica might be all of five foot nothing but she was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, albeit in a totally different way than the beatdown I had just witnessed.

"We should probably go too, Lee-lee," one of the Quileute boys said, and she jerked her chin upward in terse acknowledgement, giving one final glare in the direction of the departing Port Angeles boys before turning and stalking past me.

"Hey, um," I said, rising hastily to my feet and reaching one hand out as she approached, "thanks."

"Don't mention it," she replied curtly, but her face softened. "Boys gotta learn." She fist-bumped me and I, taken by surprise, fist-bumped her back.

Despite how stressful and violent the night had been, I felt oddly peaceful on the drive back to Forks.


	2. The Right Choice

**This isn't what Stephenie Meyer wrote, but I sure wish it was! I couldn't find exact dates for everything in canon, so I've set Sam's first phase in April 2004 and assumed that his relationship with Leah continued, though strained, until February 2005. If you like this, consider checking out my main project, Tenebrity, which is a rewriting of Twilight.**

* * *

Sam had disappeared the week before our third anniversary. He left the hospital where his mom was resting up and never came home.

We were scared to death, of course. There were search parties out every night. Chief Swan worked overtime to help out, but he did sit us down and give us the talk about how Sam was a legal adult and if he just up and left there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. I couldn't believe that he'd do it, though. Not my Sam. We had a future together—and sure, it was a shitty future, but it was ours.

Rumors flew: he'd gotten drunk and broken his neck, I was knocked up and he was running ("pulling a Uley," they called it), he was shacked up with a Forks girl (which Forks girl it was changed daily). The kindest one I heard was that he'd left to track down his dad and drag him home.

After two weeks we'd just about given up hope when he just walked in my front door like nothing was wrong. He wouldn't talk to any of us about what had happened, not even me. He just said "don't worry about it" and "it won't happen again."

But that was just the beginning. He got distant, then he started skipping school. He'd never say why. When summer rolled around, he got really into tribal history, and then made friends with one of the troublemakers in town, Paul. Near the end of summer he told me to keep Seth away from the hospital when Dr. Cullen was on shift. I tried so hard to get some answers after that, but he wouldn't say anything, so I gave up.

* * *

Sam had come over, out of the blue, after spending two days not answering his phone. Not that that was weird, he'd been disappearing a lot for the last year. The minute he walked through the door, I knew we were going to have a no-holds-barred, knock-down-drag-out fight. That was the nice part about dating Sam, he was always good for an argument when you wanted one.

Only, I didn't want one. Not tonight. I was done. I'd been done for months, only I'd never had the guts to do anything about it.

"Hey, Lee-lee," he greeted me, reaching out to muss my hair. I pulled away with a frown.

"Where were you?"

His expression went empty. "Out."

"Doing what?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"I don't know," I said, but not angrily. Not anymore. "You won't tell me that, either."

"Leah—"

"No." I took a deep breath. "This isn't working out, Sam."

"Leah—"

"I can't be with someone who doesn't let me in. I'm not gonna be your mother."

He looked like I'd slapped him. "Leah, please. I love you."

"Yeah, I know. But not enough to change anything."

"It doesn't have to be like this," he said quickly, and for a minute I almost hoped. But then I saw his face change—I saw him choose whatever it was instead of me. "But maybe it should be. I'm sorry, Lee-lee."

"Me too." I sighed. "Go home."

He left without saying anything else and I leaned against the door, feeling like someone had punched me in the face.

* * *

I ran, hardly paying attention to the familiar trail. The wind pulled hair out of my ponytail and into my eyes but I didn't bother to brush it away. I knew my face must look a sight but it wasn't like there was anybody out here to see it. Second Beach wasn't a popular destination in February.

I rounded the last turn and slowed down just enough to get over the driftwood without breaking an ankle. When I hit the beach, I turned right without even thinking about it. Quateata was where I went when I needed to think. I got to my favorite spot, dropped to the ground, and put my head in my hands.

Tears threatened and I rubbed my flannel sleeves over my face. Even though I'd known for a while this wasn't going to keep working like this, it was still hard as hell to do anything about it. That was why I'd left it so long. I sniffed, trying to convince myself that I'd done the right thing. That this wasn't the biggest mistake of my life.

Somehow it felt worse than if he'd just decided to leave me for good. This way it was my fault, so everything that happened later would be my fault too. It felt like I'd stabbed myself in the gut with a knife and now I couldn't stop twisting it. I pressed my knuckles against my mouth, wishing I could be some heartless bitch who breaks up with boys for fun like in the movies.

"Oh, sorry," someone said from behind me. "I didn't know anyone was here."

I looked over my shoulder to see a tall Forks girl looking awkward. I recognized her from somewhere, but couldn't quite place her.

"You look upset," she said. "Do you want company, or to be alone?"

When she asked, I realized that I didn't want to be by myself. "You can stay."

She came and sat down near me, but not too close. I appreciated that. "We've never been introduced, but you're Leah."

"Yeah."

"I'm Angela... my mom loved the Bee Gees."

 _Angela_. It was a soft and pretty name. It fit her. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she replied. "Do you want to talk or do you want to hear me talk or do you want to sit in silence?"

I smiled, feeling a little better already. "You're good at this, aren't you?"

She looked down at her hands, tucked into the sleeves of her denim jacket. "I've had practice."

"I broke up with my boyfriend," I admitted in a rush. "It was the right thing to do, but…"

"That's rough," she said, without pity in her voice. That was nice. "Sometimes doing the right thing is really hard."

"Yeah."

We sat in silence for a while, just looking out at the foggy ocean. The company helped.

After a while, I felt like I could go back. "Thanks," I said, standing up. "This was nice."

"Yeah," she agreed. "We should do it again sometime."

"I'd like that." If I wasn't going to be spending every day with Sam, I would need more friends. "Give me your phone?"

Angela extended it to me and I took it, added my number under "Leah" and handed it back.

"Thanks." She looked like she was going to say something else, but then she didn't. I wondered what she was thinking.

"It was nice to finally meet you, Angela."

"Likewise."

With nothing left to say, I turned and headed back toward the trail to La Push. I might be sad about breaking up with Sam for a while, but I was pretty sure that I'd done the right thing. Now all I had to do was keep believing that.


End file.
